Tarangire
by CatBrooks
Summary: The story of the formation and life of a pride of lions who have a much different lifestyle than the Pridelanders. In progress, please read & review! Chapter 2 up!
1. Chapter 1

It was dark, which was common when the pride was hunting. The darkness made the world constrained; even Bimbaya's keen eyesight could only penetrate the depths so far. The croaking of the frogs by the waterhole, the reedy whispers of the locusts in the bush, and the low coughs and swishing tails of the herd somewhere in front of them helped give the young lioness a sense of distance. She crouched in the dry grass, her heart thudding in her chest. If she paused, and closed her eyes, she could feel her pridesisters crouched similarly around her. Their attentions were turned solely to the colossal herd of wildebeest huddled in the darkness ahead of them, their newborn calves shuddering in the chill of their first night. The predatory focus was pressing on the skin of the mothers like a persistent itch. Slowly, panic began to spread its roots throughout the herd. Hooves scraped nervously at the ground, eyes widened against the darkness, low moans called the newborns close.

Bimbaya's whiskers quivered as a breeze flowed over her back and towards the herd. For a moment, there was silence. And then, suddenly, a rushing sound as the claws of her pridesisters dug into the sandy earth, and then an explosion of sound as powerful hind legs launched the huntresses towards the lowing prey. Bimbaya remained, her eyes wide with excitement as the ranks of the wildebeest broke in full-blown panic. A young female wildebeest, her sides heaving with a labor that had begun when the sun still roamed the sky, stumbled forward in vain. The lionesses of Saadani had been watching her.

Bimbaya inched forward, watching her pridesisters worry the exhausted female away from the stampeding mass. They encircled her, dodging her feeble, desperate kicks. Hawa, the pridemother, leapt forward, her claws digging into the far shoulder of the wildebeest and her teeth clamping on the spine. Another lioness, (in the dark and dusty movement Bimbaya could not see who), barreled onto the hindquarters, and the wildebeest, grunting in pain and fear, fell onto her distended side. Hawa pounced upon the quarry's rearing head and clamped her jaws over the wildebeest's muzzle, blocking her airway. Agonizing minutes passed until finally the weakly kicking wildebeest lay still. After a moment, the smell of hot, red meat coursed through the air to where Bimbaya hid, and, her stomach rumbling its assent, she made her way over to the feast…

In another time, Bimbaya opened her eyes. The vision was gone, the savory taste on her tongue just a faint memory. It was daytime, it was hot, and she was alone.

The lioness yawned, blinked her eyes against the harsh sunlight, and stretched her legs. Her stomach ached with sudden obvious emptiness. The shade under which she had fallen asleep had moved with the wandering sun, and the baking heat had brought her out of her slumber. Lazily, she shifted herself to the far side of the acacia tree, giving two vervet monkeys within its branches a look that read "Mess with me while I'm lying here and you will regret it, punk." They seemed to get the message as they quickly hopped their way to the higher branches.

Bimbaya curled herself up once more, resting her chin on crossed paws and wearily shutting her eyes. As her skin cooled to match the temperature of the tree's sparse shadow, the lioness drifted back to sleep…

"_Bimbaya!" _

_The young lioness had grown. She was an adult now, a huntress and true member of the pride. Without looking up, she recognized the voice that called her name. "Yes, Morowa?" _

_A cub moved, slowly, in exaggerated reverence, through the thorny underbrush to where Bimbaya lay. "It's time, isn't it? Should I get Hawa…?"_

"_Shh… no, little cousin. I'll be fine on my own."_

"_Are you sure? My mom said that Hawa can…"_

"_No, no, that's all right. I'd actually like to be alone, if that's okay."_

"_O – oh. Okay…" Looking a bit put out, Morowa left, crawling clumsily out of the birthing den. Bimbaya smiled weakly and rolled onto her side. Morowa is a good cub, Bimbaya thought blearily. She just doesn't know when she's not wanted._

_Cubs… Hawa, the old, wise pridemother, had told Bimbaya she carried only one. It made sense, she had said, in her peculiar, almost insensitive way. 'All the other cubs have already been born, and sensitive Bimbaya knows we can't handle many more.' Groaning, Bimbaya shifted her weight. One cub is plenty, she thought hazily. And what will we name her? Oh, she was quite sure it'd be female. Just where this assurance came from she couldn't say, but she felt it with the same confidence that Hawa had proclaimed there was only one. _

_A pain shot through Bimbaya's muscles, and she clenched her teeth, swallowing a whimper. Maliki would still be pleased with one more daughter, she mused. He loved all his cubs, the silly old fool. What kind of name would he like? Something… something strong… Another pain, and this time the whimper escaped. Soon, so soon…_

Bimbaya's eyes shot open, and the dream was gone. Another thorny branch was thrown from the tree, struck her on the back, and then settled in the dust by the first. Bimbaya got to her feet and roared at the criminal monkeys in the tree above. Screeching in terror, the culprits hid within the depths of the tree.

The lioness growled and stormed out from under the acacia, her tail lashing in annoyance. "Damn monkeys…" she muttered, although her anger was quickly subsiding and the curse was only half-hearted. It was too hot and she was too hungry to be wasting energy on stupid primates. She gazed about, squinting in the afternoon light. Nothing. Not even a rabbit.

As she paused to look around, bits of her dream resurfaced in the way dreams will. She shook her head and frowned, trying to banish the memory. That was the beginning of this mess. Why had she dreamt of it just now? Memories of the Saadani pride came back to her as she padded through the hellish savannah. Old Hawa, kind King Maliki, and little Morowa, who had grown into quite the beautiful young lioness…

Oh, blast it all. That part of her life was over. She'd left, and that was that.

A dry breeze fluttered across Bimbaya's tan fur. It was a hot wind, more like a warm breath than a breeze, and offered no solace from the tyrannical sun. It did, however, carry with it the wonderful smell of rotting flesh. Perking her ears forward, Bimbaya turned towards the scent. It was maybe a mile away, not too bad. As she walked towards the smell, it became more detailed. Luckily, there wasn't any hyena scent mixed in with the meat. Jackals, yes, but they were easily dealt with.

It was a zebra, a stunningly malnourished one. It was quite recently dead, which made the rotting flesh aspect of its scent odd. When Bimbaya finally approached it, scattering a couple vultures and causing a jackal to skulk warily in the thick, dry grass, the whole story became clear: a festering wound gaped on the zebra's haunch, flies clustering above it just as vultures circled overhead. Bimbaya furrowed her eyebrows, viewing the scene objectively. The zebra had been bitten quite a while ago – probably by a crocodile – and the wound had gotten infected. An unfortunate way to go, but, well… one creature's misfortune was another's gain. Several others, Bimbaya noted sardonically as she eyed the resentful jackal, the flies, and the ever-more-daring vultures. Moving away from the putrid haunch, Bimbaya began to feed. It wasn't fresh-caught wildebeest, but it was food, and it fell just as sweetly in her belly.

Time passed, and the sun sank in the sky, bleeding out as it hit the horizon. The night came like a blessing and Bimbaya, lounging on the wayward trunk of a fig tree, wallowed in the cool darkness. Her eyes, hooded in sleepiness, wandered lazily across the savannah, spotting a bull giraffe's telltale silhouette and the bone-white stripes of a zebra herd in the distance. A leopard, spooked by her presence, watched her warily from within the foliage of a nearby baobab. The familiar nighttime noises began their serenade – crickets, frogs, a nightjar's cry, the yipping of the far-off zebras. Low, low rumbles, barely noticeable, traveling through the fig tree's bark. Elephants, conversing ultrasonically over vast distances, sharing gossip, connecting families, searching for lovers…

Bimbaya breathed in the steady air of nighttime, her half-lidded eyes closing completely. Her belly was full and she was, for once, content. It wasn't so bad, she thought, being alone. Although she sometimes missed the reliability of being with a pride, she knew she could never return to Saadani. It had been so long. She was a loner, a rogue… No matter that she was a lioness. Her ears flicked. Hopefully her silly mind wouldn't dredge up old memories this night. Better to dream of the return of the rainy season. Better to dream of the great migrations; the acres and acres of prey, the bounty of the newborn foals and calves. This transitional period of dry nothingness was oppressive. There was simply not enough to distract Bimbaya from the ghosts of her past, besides slowly starving to death between meals.

Idle thoughts about the way the wind was tussling the grass and the great multitude of stars overhead wound through the lioness's mind. She was close, she thought sleepily, to Saadani, wasn't she? Oh, several days to the very border of it. Not too close. Tomorrow she would wander closer, but only because she could see that the zebra planned to make their way east and she intended to follow them for a while. Yes. Everything was going well, for now. Her life was solitude and struggle. She couldn't imagine it any other way.

Slowly, the black of night faded to gray. Hazy silhouettes of tree-lined ridges in the distance became stark against the sky and pale, hungry shadows seeped from the ground. In the east, the colorless sky began to blush red. The sun was about to make its dramatic appearance.

Bimbaya lay quiet, watching. She was a practical lioness – you had to be, to survive alone – and never went in much for deities. The stories she had heard passed around Saadani were, for the most part, mundane: an extraordinarily clever lioness; a tragic drought; a stupid king, perhaps; and, of course, the cautionary tales of cackling hyenas.

There were, however, two other kinds of stories. The first were silly, superstitious tales about witch doctors and the evil eye. The second were the stories of Those-You-Can-Not-Catch – the beings of the sky. Of course, she did not believe in the superstitious tales. They involved foolish rituals such as making territory marks at certain times of day or during certain types of weather, or trying to read messages in the way vultures perched on rib bones. However, as she watched the red sun slowly rise, Bimbaya couldn't help but feel her belief in the heavenly Scentless, however insignificant, was verified. The sun was one of these sky beings, along with the moon, the clouds, First Mother, the rainmakers, and the firestalks. She couldn't smell the sun, or hear it, or catch it in her claws, but there it was, somehow, in the sky, like every other day.

_Much more reliable than food or health_, thought Bimbaya, yawning noisily. The lioness stretched, raking her claws in the bark of the fig tree. She leapt clumsily to the ground, kicking up a whirl of dust as she hit the parched earth. The zebra herd had moved in the night, and a rather decrepit-looking rhinoceros now occupied the area they had abandoned. Giving the testy beast a wide berth, Bimbaya began to make her way east.

The day wore on, and Bimbaya's opinion of the sun began to sink just as the sun continued to rise. It was true that Those-You-Can-Not-Catch certainly didn't worry themselves over the feelings of the creatures beneath them (except First Mother, of course), but Bimbaya couldn't help begrudging the sun the heat it dragged in its wake. She paused, panting a bit, in the pitiful shadow of a sausage tree, and raised her head to cast about for a water scent. There was something faint – an elephant ditch, perhaps – to the south. Shrugging her shoulders languidly, Bimbaya loped towards the feeble scent.

As she walked, Bimbaya let her mind wander to better times. The rainy season. True, the heavy raindrops beating on your back could drive you insane after the first few days, but it was worth it. The forlorn tracts of caked dirt that snaked through the savannah filled with water and became rivers once more. The antelope, the zebra, and the buffalo – all of them returned. Alone, Bimbaya was no match for the delicacies of buffalo, and even the zebra and the larger antelope were out of her grasp. But the young ones…! She licked her lips just thinking about it. And, of course, the dark clouds and the rainmakers that herded them across the sky would be a welcome relief from the vast blueness that beat down on her now.

It wasn't long before she reached the source of the water smell. She had come to a small, dry streambed, completely devoid of moisture. The smell did indeed come from an elephant ditch. It was a huge gash in the sandy ground, rent and scored from the digger's tusks and pummeled to a pulp by his feet. Bimbaya peered into it, feeling the small glimmer of hope for water she had kindled on her walk over flicker sadly and die. Pure mud. Not having much hope for anything better, Bimbaya rooted about in the mess, searching for a forgotten puddle. She licked up a few drops, dug around a bit herself, and then she noticed the smell.

It was a lion smell.

True, the scent was so mixed in with the scents of dust and grass that it was hard to tell at first. It was definitely there, though. Bimbaya stopped moving. Only her ears quivered nervously as they flicked to and fro, listening. There was nothing… Just the wind rustling in the grass, the far, far off braying of zebras… and, quite close, a small, dry cough.

Bimbaya turned her head, trying to find the source of the sound. Her eyes rushed over the tops of the blades of grass. Nothing. Unless the lion was crouched down low…

"There's no water."

Startled, Bimbaya nearly jumped in fright but managed to control herself. The voice had come from behind her, and she quickly swiveled to face it.

"The elephant drank most of it when he made it yesterday, and then the rest disappeared on its own."

It… it was a cub. Bimbaya was stunned at his condition. The poor thing was skin and bone. He looked like he must have been out for days – weeks, even – all alone. His dark fur was caked with pale, dry mud, which would explain why it had taken so long for her to smell him. Bimbaya found herself stammering for words. "I… it… err…" She swallowed, cleared her throat, and regained her composure. "Kid, what happened to you? Why are you out here by yourself?"

She immediately regretted her hastiness. The cub frowned and his shoulders hunched. He closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the light. "My mother told me I had to run."

"Run? But… Oh, dear. Was there a coup? Were your kings exiled?"

The cub's ears lowered and he sat down on the edge of the streambed with his tail wrapped around his legs. "We only had one king. And they killed him…"

The cub coughed again, the sound harsh and raspy in his dry throat. Bimbaya frowned in sudden anxiousness. Having only one king was rare, certainly, but not unheard of… "And, the new kings, they were going to kill you, too?"

A slow, weary nod. "Yes. That's why my mother told me to run away. So I did. I ran and I ran and…" He was seized by a series of coughs. Bimbaya moved closer and licked him tenderly on the forehead. After a moment, the cub continued. "I hid in a tree when it was dark. All I could catch to eat were ants and beetles… A cheetah came by once and laughed at me. I came here after a couple days because it smelled like water... there was an elephant. He couldn't see very well, I… I think he was very old. He would make puddles out of the mud with his tusks and when he wasn't looking I would drink some of it..." He stopped, shuddering as a sob cut off his speech. Bimbaya gave him a few more licks, marveling at the cub's fortitude. He leaned into her and rubbed his cheek against her leg, whispering very quietly into her fur.

Bimbaya frowned. "Kid, hey, shh… Shh…" She looked at him closely, her throat tightening with sudden anxiousness. It was all a coincidence, it must be. One king wasn't _that_ strange, and the resemblance wasn't _that_ great… Sighing, Bimbaya licked his shoulder once more. "What was your mother's name?" she said quietly.

The cub was quiet for a moment. He drooped further into Bimbaya's fur. "M-Morowa," he answered.

Bimbaya felt her stomach sink into the earth. Her head felt heavy as she slowly lifted it to gaze east, towards Saadani. So, Maliki had finally fallen. Had it really been so long? The great king who had defended the pride since before Bimbaya was born… Had he really grown too old to fight? And for him to be killed, not exiled…! Oh, how her heart ached for her old pridesisters! Poor Morowa, to desperately send her cub to a death only slightly less certain than what he faced under the usurpers' new rule. How many cubs had there been? How many mothers were grieving now? Bimbaya felt a lump in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut then slowly looked down to the cub huddled between her legs. Morowa's child…

"Don't worry, kid," she sighed. "I'll take care of you."


	2. Chapter 2

"What about those big antelope?"

"What, the sables? No, they're tricky. See that black one, there, drinking? That's the male; look at the size of those horns!"

"Oh, right. Well, what about that thing?"

"That's a warthog, Gewinn. And yes, we could catch one of those. But we just ate last night. If you're so hungry go… eat a lizard or something."

The lions lay on the top of a small kopje that overlooked a busy waterhole, its waters swollen by the arrival of the rainy season. The herds had returned in droves and the landscape, once dusty yellow, had transformed. Green now dominated the earth. Speckles of pink and yellow flowers added variety to the plains, which were now populated by an endless amount of life. Wildebeest, zebra, buffalo, antelope, warthogs, and a host of other species crowded around the waterhole. A black rhinoceros snuffled about in a mud pit, grunting angrily at an impala that wandered too close. Off in the distance, a herd of elephants led by an elderly matriarch made their way towards the waterhole.

The rain had paused for now. Clouds hung low over the ground, threatening to start the showers again, while intrepid shafts of sunlight beat their way through the weak spots. There was an air of frenzied competition surrounding the waterhole, but up atop the kopje where the lioness and cub perched, there was only content stillness.

"I don't smell any lizards up here, mama."

"Oh, I'm sure there must be some, Gewinn. This is the first time in days the sun has shone. They'll be lazing around on a rock, just like you should be."

Several months had passed since Bimbaya had found the little cub, forlorn and deserted by the dried-up streambed. He was bigger now; his sunken face had become broad and round, and he had grown into a stout and sturdy frame. It had taken several weeks for him to recover from the malnutrition and the traumatizing experience of being alone and vulnerable out on the savannah, but with Bimbaya's encouragement and care he had grown into a curious and amiable adolescent.

Bimbaya had tried to tread softly on topics about the cub's past, but through careful conversation had found out enough to satisfy her concerning the fate of the Saadani pride. Hawa was dead; the old lioness had died even before Gewinn was born. He knew of her only through stories. Her daughter had taken up the mantle of Pridemother and apparently the pride was doing quite well. Maliki had fought off usurpers many times before, even when they came in coalitions of pairs and, once, a trio. It was time that had been his downfall. He had not been strong enough for the two young adult lions that were now the Saadani kings. After a while, the lionesses would adjust from the change of male presence. All of them knew that kings came and went just as the herds and rains did. That was just the way of things.

Gewinn rolled over onto his back between Bimbaya's outstretched forelegs and batted a paw at the fluff on her chin. "I don't want to lay around, it's so boring. Can't we chase the flamingos around? They're so funny when they fly off with their bendy necks sticking out."

Bimbaya grinned. "No, I'm feeling much too lazy. Besides, it's too busy down there today. If it's not an angry rhino chasing after you, it's those buffalo. Look at them down there! There're hundreds of 'em."

Gewinn sighed melodramatically and rolled over to the edge of the rocking outcropping, resting his chin on his oversized paws and watching the animals down below. Indeed, the buffalo were beginning to take over the waterhole. Only the rhinoceros stayed put, while the others warily moved away from the influx of massive, heavily horned buffalo. "Well, will you tell me a story then?" he said after a moment of forced silence.

Bimbaya yawned to cover up a chuckle. "Oh, sure. Which one?"

The cub flicked his ears thoughtfully. "Uh…" He glanced down as an annoyed squeal erupted from below. A warthog sow and her three piglets were being evicted from their spot on the bank by some enterprising buffalo. "Know any about warthogs?"

Bimbaya considered for a moment. "Well, there was this one lioness named Tidyanawo who wouldn't eat warthogs because a baboon told her they were poisonous."

Gewinn groaned. "No, that's dumb. Tell a story about the Scentless or something."

The lioness paused, glancing up at the dark clouds that crawled slowly across the sky. "How about the Rainmaker?"

"Yeah, tell that one!"

"All right…

"Well, you know First Mother was the first lion, but there was a first elephant, too. A long, long time ago when First Mother was growing in the belly of the earth, there was an Elephant. She was made of tree trunks and baked clay, and in her trunk was all the water of the world. She wandered about on the dusty earth, stomping down riverbeds and whirling up dirt into kopjes. She wandered and wandered while all the other herdbeasts brought themselves to life. The zebra made himself out of sticks and bonepowder, the wildebeest made himself out of mud and charcoal, and all the rest made themselves with all the parts the earth wasn't using to make First Mother. They made themselves mates, too, so they could have children.

"Now, back then it was dry season all year long, since First Elephant kept all the water in her trunk. All the other herdbeasts followed her across the earth so they'd have water when they needed it. Even First Elephant's mate had to beg her for water. He was so angry with her that he left First Elephant and all her daughters to go wander the earth by himself, and that's why male elephants walk alone. After a while, all the herdbeasts got so fed up with begging First Elephant for water they went to talk to the sun to see what she could do about it.

"Now, Sun doesn't usually listen to the earth-beings but she'd been watching First Elephant marching across the savannah, scoring up the yellow ground with riverbeds, and she told the herdbeasts that she'd fix everything up, and do something about those riverbeds besides.

"So Sun went and took Elephant up to the sky and told her that she had to share the water with all the animals and stop stomping scores in the earth. But First Elephant was so heavy that no matter how lightly she stepped, she still stomped up riverbeds. Sun said, 'I'll make a deal with you. You come be a sky-being with me and all your daughters can keep wandering the earth as much as they'd like 'cause they're made of flesh and bones, not baked clay and tree trunks, so they're not heavy enough to stomp up riverbeds.'

"First Elephant thought this was a pretty good idea, so she became a cloud as dark as her river-silt skin and started wandering the sky, spraying water wherever she roams and stomping up thunder instead of riverbeds. But the herdbeasts don't think for themselves too well, so they just keep following First Elephant around as she goes in big circles up in the sky. And every time First Elephant, who took on the name Rainmaker since she is no longer an elephant but a scentless sky-being, walks over her old stomped-up riverbeds she makes sure they all get filled with water as an apology to the sun for making them in the first place."

"So that's why there's a rainy season? Because Rainmaker walks in circles?" Gewinn said.

"Yep. I guess she's taking a break now." Bimbaya answered, glancing up at the quietly rumbling storm clouds. "And that's fine with me. It's funny how much you miss the rain when it's gone and how fast it gets annoying being pummeled by it when it comes back."

Gewinn looked up at the sky as well, imagining what it must be like to turn into a cloud. A thought occurred to him. "Mama, don't elephants still stomp up riverbeds? They make ditches."

Bimbaya nodded. "That because the elephants know Rainmaker hides water in the dirt beneath the riverbed for her sons and daughters, so they still have water even in the dry season. And she gave them tusks to dig with since they're not heavy enough to plow up riverbeds just with their feet."

"Oh." Gewinn stood up, swishing his tail back and forth and hopping about. "Well, that was a good story, but I still feel like chasing flamingoes. Can't we do something, mama?"

"Oooh, Gewinn, just sleep for a minute. It'll start raining again and you'll never get any sleep after that." Bimbaya rolled over onto her side with her back towards the scowling cub. Gewinn half-heartedly pounced on her tail, batted it around a bit, but gave up after Bimbaya remained stoically unresponsive.

"Fine. I'll just go chase flamingoes on my own then." Gewinn spun around and hopped down onto a shelf of rock just below the peak of the kopje.

Bimbaya lifted her head and called after him, "Gewinn! Don't leave the kopje; I was serious about it being too busy down there. Not one of those animals would hesitate to squash a little termite like you."

"Ugh, mama! But that's where all the flamingoes are. Can't I just…"

"No. Use your head, Gewinn. With all those animals down there, even hyenas might stop by later. Just stay on the kopje. And don't forget to --

"Watch out for snakes in the rocks. I know, mama. Sheesh."

The cub jumped down to another level of rock and Bimbaya, nervous now that he was out of sight, quietly padded over to where he had disappeared. She lay down by the edge of the precipice and watched Gewinn's tail tuft bob up and down as he jumped from rock to rock. She sighed. "That kid will be the death of me, he really will."

It was a fairly large kopje, full of little copses of vegetation and even some industrious little trees sprouting from dirt-filled crevasses. Gewinn didn't mind being restricted to it too much. The cub crouched down below a crag of stone, watching a dead leaf get blown in little circles by the wind. He grinned and hunched his shoulders, wagging his hindquarters as he squared up for the pounce. Wait for it, wait for it… Clumsily he leapt over the crag and pounced upon the leaf, crushing it into dusty shards.

"Hmm, hardly a challenge for mighty Gewinn," the cub muttered dramatically. He marched forward a bit, sniffing about for something more challenging. "No mice, no lizards. This kopje is boring." Swishing his tail in exaggerated discontent he hopped, laughing, to a higher shelf of rock. "Well, since today is not a day for lions, let's be a leopard." Gewinn loped over to a bendy rock fig whose adventurous yellow-white roots had spread almost tentacle-like over the rock's surface. He circled its trunk and sized up the enemy, appraising its many elbows and treacherously wispy upper branches. With an enthusiastic hop, Gewinn leapt upon the trunk of the tree, his claws digging frantically into the smooth, powdery bark. In short, jittery hops he climbed up to the first branch and perched precariously atop it.

"Ha, that wasn't so hard," he said, panting a bit. He stood up, his legs shuddering and tail stuck out straight like a rudder as he tried to maintain balance. Gaining confidence, he leapt up to the next branch, and the next. On the fourth leap he reached a branch that started the sag under his weight. He crawled out a bit and looked out to the horizon.

"Being a leopard is f-f-fun," he said, squinting against the blustery wind. Unwisely, he glanced down. The branch he now perched upon barely overhung the kopje, and the earth below seemed very far away. Gewinn swallowed nervously. "Maybe being a leopard isn't such a good idea – aah!" Without warning, there was a flash of lightning off in the distance and, almost simultaneously, a clap of thunder echoed across the savannah. Gewinn, surprised, had jumped up and lost his balance. He slipped to the side of the branch, holding on desperately with his front claws but the damp bark was too slippery.

The cub fell, grasping at branches as he went. The pure multitude of branches saved him as they slowed his fall and directed him inwards, towards the trunk and the closer ground. He hit the rock between two big roots, landing awkwardly on his feet.

Gewinn collapsed, dazed, and waited until his beating heart slowed. "I hope mama didn't see that," he muttered, glancing up at the peak of the kopje. Sure enough, Bimbaya was making her way down to him, looking concerned. "Oh, no," Gewinn sighed, pulling himself up onto his haunches. "I'm okay, mama! I landed on my feet."

Bimbaya felt a rush of relief as she saw Gewinn sit up. She paused for a second and breathed in a deep sigh, before shaking her head with a small smile and continuing down to the bedraggled cub. "It's a good thing you did, that was a pretty big fall. What did I tell you about climbing so high? 'Climbing up is good for naps…'"

"'But leave the heights for spotted cats.' I know, mama."

Bimbaya laughed and began grooming his disheveled fur. "That was a pretty loud thunder, wasn't it? Sounded like Rainmaker jumped up and fell out of a tree just like you did. That firestalk must have hit her pretty hard."

"Firestalk?" Gewinn said, looking out across the plains to where the lightning had struck. "Was that what that was?"

Bimbaya nodded absently. "Yep. That's another story about Rainmaker. Not long after Rainmaker turned herself into a cloud, the herdbeasts started getting discontent. They said she wasn't sending out raining enough. So they went and complained to Sun again and she said she'd do something about it. Like I said before, though, Sun doesn't usually listen to earth-beings and she was getting a little tired of the herdbeasts bringing all their problems to her. So she started throwing stalks of sunlight at Rainmaker whenever she was slacking off to make her go faster, and to get back at the herdbeasts for complaining so much she sometimes throws them at the earth. When they hit the earth when Rainmaker's not nearby they start fires. And Sun likes to aim for trees so when she's out throwin' firestalks make sure you aren't in one." Bimbaya finished grooming Gewinn and leaned back to admire her work. "So you're all right, then, kid?"

Gewinn nodded just as there was another flicker of light in the distance followed by a rumble of thunder. Bimbaya looked up at the sky. "Sounds like Rainmaker's gonna get started again. Let's find somewhere on this rock to get out of the rain, 'kay? I think I saw just the place earlier." The two lions made their way towards the promising niche near the base of the kopje, slipping in under the slight overhang just as the rain began to fall.


End file.
